


A.O.K.

by taciturnTangerine (Nhitori)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Mostly just DaveKat sad-based fluff though, There will be smut at some point, This is sadstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nhitori/pseuds/taciturnTangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> I shut my mouth, and walk away from the memory game.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Your name is Dave Strider, you are dying, and before that, you're going to lose all memory of the love of your life.</p><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and he's going to forget you.  But you won't ever forget him.  Long after he's gone, you will still cry.</p><p>Dave and Karkat => Make the most of your time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU I guess. Where trolls and humans have always lived together.

_I'm fine, I'm fine._  
It started out with just a kiss.  
The song that's programmed into everyone's mind is relevant in absolutely any situation, true, but that was honestly how it began.

You and Karkat had been friends for quite some time, yes. Several years, actually, and it was funny. What happened, that is. In the beginning, you were rivals. It seemed no matter which way your heads turned you were after the same booty. John, Terezi, Sollux. There seemed to be no end in sight, until suddenly in swooped Roxy, Gamzee, and Aradia, and then there was no booty left to fight over.

So you became friends. Then best friends.

Then, at a Christmas party, you ended up under the mistletoe together. And it was the type of mistletoe occurrence that made you need to talk to him the following day. You still have it bookmarked. The conversation, that is.

\- turntechGodhead started pestering carcinoGeneticist at whatever time AM-  
TG: hey  
CG: FUCKING HELL STRIDER IT'S LIKE NINE IN THE FUCKING MORNING I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD COFFEE YET WHAT DO YOU WANT.  
TG: calm your nonexistent tits dude jeeze  
TG: nine in the morning is a decent hour  
CG: MAYBE FOR EARLY BIRD SHITSTAINS LIKE YOU.  
TG: i am neither an early bird nor a night owl i am an enigma  
CG: YEAH YOU DON'T FUCKING SLEEP.  
TG: i do sleep just not at any normal time  
TG: im usually going to bed at this time of day im staying awake for you here  
TG: all for the sake of contacting you when youre actually awake  
CG: IS THIS ABOUT WHAT I THINK IT IS?  
TG: if youre referring to the distinct amount of apples that could have become passionfruits after the meeting of your chapped as fuck lips to my luscious ones under the christmastime plant at yesterdays party then yes  
CG: DID YOU HAVE TO GO INTO SO MUCH DETAIL.  
TG: yes because karkat its imperative i tell you to use chapstick  
TG: did you ever hear the story about the girl who never used chapstick  
TG: her lips got drier and drier till one day she turned into a lizard  
TG: how bout you try a cherry chapstick that would suit you just fine  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN.  
TG: im a human  
TG: anyway back to business that kiss there uh  
TG: you do know that generally kisses under the mistletoe are quick pecks right like oh dang we gotta kiss there ok done right  
CG: YEAH I FUCKING KNOW THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DOESN'T.  
TG: i distinctly remember a certain shouty as fuck troll grabbing my face and clumsily mashing his future lizard-lips against mine  
CG: MAYBE I WAS DRUNK.  
TG: if you were drunk youd be hungover now and you would be a lot angrier about me contacting you before your coffee  
TG: i have logic karkat  
TG: dont underestimate me  
CG: MAYBE I DID KISS YOU A LITTLE TOO. KISSLIKE.  
CG: THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER?  
TG: oh im just wondering if theres any chance of that happening again  
TG: except maybe after you get some chapstick  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU AND CHAPSTICK?  
CG: OH WAIT FUCKING WHAT.  
TG: you need chapstick  
CG: YOU DICKNUGGET I KNOW THAT BY NOW. WHAT WAS THAT PART ABOUT THE CHANCE OF A KISS HAPPENING AGAIN.  
TG: whats the weather tomorrow  
CG: WHAT.  
TG: what iiiiis it  
CG: ...PARTLY CLOUDY. WHY IN HELL'S FIERY NAME ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS?  
TG: is it partly cloudy with a chance of kissing  
CG: OH MY FUCKING GOD.  
CG: STRIDER.  
CG: YOU ARE GODDAMN ASININE.  
TG: answer the question  
CG: ANSWER MINE FIRST.  
TG: okay shoot  
CG: WILL YOU COME TOLERATE A ROMCOM WITH ME TOMORROW.  
TG: as a date?  
CG: DUH.  
TG: sure  
CG: THEN YES.  
CG: THE FUCKING WEATHER TOMORROW IS PARTLY CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF KISSING.  
TG: sweet  
TG: seeya then <3  
\- turntechGodhead ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist- 

The best relationship of your life started with a silly little mistletoe kiss. And chapstick. But mostly the kiss.

That was three years ago. You're still living with your brother, but you and Karkat are working on getting an apartment together. At the moment, though, you're not doing any working. You are curled up in the most blanket-iest blanket cocoon to ever blanket. Ever. This would be nice except for the fact that despite the presence of about five blankets, and the sweltering  
heat of a Texas summer, you are freezing cold. Literally, Bro took your temperature and apparently electronic forehead thermometers aren't built to handle such low body temperatures. It broke. Maybe you're dead.

Nope, still need to breathe. Not dead. Just as goddamn cold as a corpse. What BS. It's not like you're life-threateningly cold, all wrapped up like this, but still. Geeze. You'd think even if you still felt cold you'd at least bet sweating, but nope. Oh well. Might as well text Karkat while you're bedridden like a frozen metapod.

\- turntechGodhead started pestering carcinoGeneticist at time o clock-  
TG: hey  
TG: hey  
TG: hey  
TG: hey  
CG: FUCKING HELL, STRIDER.  
CG: WHAT DO YOU WANT?  
TG: do i have to want something to talk to my boyfriend  
CG: YOU ALWAYS DO.  
TG: true i guess everyone does  
TG: but anyway  
TG: im bored af  
TG: entertain me  
CG: UGH, I'LL BE OVER IN TEN MINUTES.  
TG: do you wanna be a trollian popsicle  
CG: WHAT??  
TG: if no stay the fuck away  
TG: im sick and really cold and i dont know if its contagious  
CG: I'M COMING OVER ANYWAY  
CG: JESUS, DAVE, I'M AN ASSHOLE, NOT HEARTLESS.  
CG: SERIOUSLY I'D PROBABLY COME OVER ANYWAY EVEN IF YOU HAD THE BUBONIC PLAGUE  
TG: i dont even know i might  
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ACCEPT THE FACT THAT I'M BRINGING YOU SOUP, AND MORE BLANKETS SINCE I KNOW YOUR APARTMENT HAS LIKE. TWO IN REGULAR USE AND THREE BURIED SOMEWHERE UNDER ALL YOUR BROTHER'S SHIT.  
TG: can you bring cookies  
CG: I ALWAYS BRING COOKIES. DID YOU EVEN NEED TO ASK, NUMBSKULL?  
TG: yes because now i can show my appreciation in an ironic interjection  
TG: yay cookies  
CG: THAT HAS BASICALLY NO EFFECT WITHOUT PUNCTUATION.  
TG: karkat  
TG: i appreciate you  
TG: and your stupid face  
TG: and your stupid cookies  
CG: THANK YOU.  
CG: I'LL SEE YOU SOON.  
\- carcinoGeneticist ceased pestering turntechGodhead- 

Karkat gets to your house in about ten minutes, just as he said, and the moron fucking knocks on the door. And Bro's out. So what the hell do you do? No way are you getting up. So you text him.

\- turntechGodhead started pestering carcinoGeneticist-  
TG: hey asshole  
TG: the doors unlocked  
\- turntechGodhead ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist-

Karkat walks into your room a minute later, soup in a tupperware bowl in one hand, cookies and additional blankets in a grocery bag hanging from his other arm. "Hey." He greets you sheepishly, then looks you over, "Burrito much?"

"Karkat I would say I'm the hottest burrito ever except I'm not. I'm like a microwave burrito, if you stuck it somewhere cold enough it would make a grand return to the freezer so as not to die of hypothermia." You respond to him, pulling the blankets closer to yourself. Geeze. They're hardly even warm. Probably because blankets work off of body heat, which you currently don't seem to have.

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes as he pulls out the blankets he brought, and throws them over you. You manage to sit up inside your cocoon, somehow, and he hands you the tupperware of soup as well as a spoon. You thank him, then eat all the soup. All of it.

 

You're still fucking freezing. "Karkat I'm still cold." You voice the matter of your frozen-ness, and he rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, but then pulls you up in his arms and snuggles you. He's warm. Really warm, but that's just your perception. An ice cube would probably feel warm to you right now.

"You weren't fucking kidding, jeeze, and I just thought you had a fever or something..." He frowns, and places the backside of his hand against your forehead, "Jegus fuck, Strider. The hell is this? You're like. Ice cold."

Alright alright alright alright alright.

Well, idiotic jokes aside, "Yeah, I know."

"I might not be some sort of anatomy expert but I'm fairly certain that's not exactly normal for any mammal."

"No fucking duh, I'm sick." You shrug.

"Well, obviously, but... this is just weird. Like. Last I knew, if you're this cold you shouldn't still be living. Dave, maybe you should see a doctor?"

"It's fine, really. My only other symptoms are a headache and a sore throat, it's probably just some weird little virus or whatever." You shrug, and lean up to kiss his cheek. He still seems worried, but that doesn't make sense.

What ill could possibly come of a sore throat, a headache, and being this fucking cold, after all? Besides the ill that is the fact that you are currently ill.

You'll be just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

_These words are all I have to hide. (behind)_

It is now one month later. You're still cold as tits. In better news, however, you have moved in with Karkat, and that's pretty awesome. Except for the fact that you think you've actually seen him less often since the move. Not as a result of the move, not directly that is. You've both been working longer shifts at work to try and get into a better financial situation. You only took one sick day, despite your superior's insistence that you stay out till you feel better. The call center, however, only pays so much per hour. A lot of it is also based on successful calls. Yeah, answering tech support for people who often don't even have the tv plugged in isn't quite an ideal job, but you like it and it pays well.

Karkat, meanwhile, is a nurse at a nearby hospital. A fact for which you have quite often mocked him jokingly. You actually think it's awesome, though, and he knows it. As you've often said, you appreciate him. Which is apparently the best compliment to give him. He's not often appreciated for the work he does, after all.

You're kind of glad you haven't really seen him much since you moved in. He's always either at work or asleep when you get home, the same when you wake up. Sometimes you manage to meet up for lunch, but otherwise, you're both just too busy. It's a shame, but no big deal. You're doing all this work to secure your future together, a month or two of hardly seeing each other for the sake of that is nothing compared to all the time you're going to have together. Of course, you aren't REALLY glad not to see him. Just kind of.

Because you know that if he knew, he would worry like hell about the fact that you aren't feeling better. Most days your temperature isn't too bad, anyway. Never normal, of course, but it's usually just a bit too hot or a bit too cold. Some days it gets a little extreme, but you deal with it okay. The headache isn't that horrible either, it ranges from dull headache to borderline migraine, but you can turn it out. The soreness of your throat hasn't changed, but you have started coughing.

Still, you aren't too terribly concerned. You went on WebMD and nothing listed with only these symptoms is anything serious. Although they usually don't last quite this long. Ah well. Maybe you just have a weird immune system.

Right now, as it is, you're at work. As you seem to be most of the time. It's boring right now, with no calls, but hey. That's what happens when you're on a late shift that doesn't let out till midnight. No calls for chunks of time. You're still being paid the normal hourly rate for being here, so you don't mind much. Especially since your supervisor lets you play video games on the practically useless computers.

But will you look at that, here's a call now.  
"Hello, Radomas Co. IT service, what's your issue?"  
"My computer keeps turning blue."  
"As in, the blue screen of death? That's a Windows error screen, all blue with white text. It's usually caused by a core issue or a virus."  
"I know what the blue screen of death is, and this is different. I'll be in the middle of doing something, and my screen will suddenly be all blue. Just for a few seconds, then it goes back to normal. It keeps happening."  
"Is your monitor connected up to your computer properly? Explain your connection for me."  
"I have a VGA cable all the way screwed in to both the computer tower and the monitor. I can still see the DVI ports so I know I set them up right."  
"Okay, so the issue could be with your monitor or with your cord, if you have any others lying around I would try using those."  
"I already have and yet, the issue persists."  
"Wow, you really know what you're doing. Okay, I'm gonna have to" You cough, "consult the book for this one."

You pull out the "big book of IT fixes", as you all call it here. It's a fucking giant book that you all have. There's not even a digital version, why do they even give you computers if the job never requires them? Maybe they understand that in your boredom you end up needing them. Or maybe Radomas had a bunch of budget left over and decided to just say eh, screw it, the call center can have computers.

As you flip through the book, you cough. Then again. Another time.

Aaaaand, fuck. You're having a coughing fit in the middle of a call.  
"Are you okay over there? I can hang up and call again tomorrow..."  
"No, it" Cough, cough, "it's fine..."  
"For fuck's sake, Dave, hang up and get a damn glass of water!" Your supervisor calls across the office, and you shake your head as you're hacking up a lung, it should be done in a second and then you can get back to helping this person...  
...  
You're out for about ten seconds. By the time you wake up, though, the call's ended and your supervisor made her way across the room and is now standing over your desk with her hands on her hips. You awkwardly gasp for air. "Dave, I'm bringing you to see a doctor. Right now."

"I don't need a doctor, besides... I have an earlier end of shift today, which is in five minutes, and so does my boyfriend and we were gonna have a movie night..." You sit back up, "I'm fine. Just sick. I'll be okay."

"Just sick. Sure. Dave the issue here, is what are you sick with. What sickness just made you pass out in the middle of a call, hm?" She's being annoying. Ugh.

"I don't know. But I'm fine."

"If I have to physically drag you to see a doctor, I will."

"Rose, no..." You sigh because she's already pulled you to your feet and is walking so briskly to her car with a grip on your wrist that you can't do anything but follow her.

Half an hour later, and you've received possibly the worst diagnosis in history. Yes, worse than the bubonic plague. Worse than AIDS back when it was a no-negotiations death sentence. Worse than fucking cancer, except maybe brain cancer, because while all those things are awful, none of them fuck you over on an immensely personal level.

You're going to lose the ability to speak within a month.  
Then the memory loss starts. Chunk amnesia, however the fuck that works. Suddenly losing entire memories, like the ability to cook, anything you did while you were ten years old...  
And people.  
Suddenly forgetting fucking everything about a person in your life.  
You're trembling, shaking, but not crying. You're too shocked to be crying yet. Oh, also. You have seven months to live, approximately, before the memory loss progresses to a point you can't even manage self-preservation.

The virus is literally eating away at your vocal chords and your brain. The prior explains the sore throat and the coughing. The latter explains the headache, and apparently one of the most vulnerable synapses is that which makes you understand temperature correctly and regulate your own body temperature. As in, 90 degree day but you're freezing? At risk for hypothermia.

And did you mention yet that.  
You're going to die in seven months.  
And you're going to fucking. Forget.

Well, fuck.  
You take deep breaths for about another half hour. You just need to calm down before you leave. You get home more than an hour later than you said you would, and open the door, walking into the kitchen and sending a call to the remainder of the house, "Karkat? You still awake? Sorry I'm late..." How will you tell him. How the fuck can you tell him. It's taking all your energy to even keep your voice level.

"Yeah, I'm awake..." He wanders into the kitchen. He seems annoyed, "Fucking forget about movie night or something?" Right. In all the bullshit you kind of forgot that you should have been home long before now. Why couldn't Rose have just waited to drag you to a doctor till tomorrow.

"Something came up..." You mutter, and he raises an eyebrow. He also crosses his arms as you sit down on the kitchen counter behind you. Standing up is hard.

"Well? Out with it. Call keep you over your shift and you're not allowed to hang up? Traffic? Out with it." He seems a little suspicious. Yeah. You would be too. Also, though, he seems worried. Kind of earnest. He hopes it's something silly like that.

Too bad.

"Karkat, I had another coughing fit. This time at work, in the middle of a call. I passed out for a few seconds." Just ease into the hard information. Be okay. Okay, you aren't okay. You can't just be okay. You do have to stay calm, though. Calm. Collected. Be a fucking Strider, Dave.

"...Are you okay?" His anger seems to have dissipated completely, dissolved into pure worry. He steps closer to you, dropping his arms to his sides.

"No, I'm. I'm not really okay." You shake your head, hugging your arms around yourself. He steps forward and hugs you, too.

"Dave, you're still ice cold."

You can't even muster up a stupid mental joke this time. "Course I am. I'm on my way to being a fucking corpse..."

"What...?" He doesn't let go of you. You hug him back, pulling him in close with a tight grip and burying your face in his shoulder.

"Karkat. I'm going to die." Your grip on him goes weak as you say this, "In seven months." Now you're crying. Yeah. That was never not going to happen.

What he says next is worse than even getting the news in the first place. Trolls tend to have shorter lifespans than humans, so it's a fact, but that doesn't change how it feels. You start to cry even more when you hear the choked words he whispers in your ear.

"Fucking hell, Dave... I was never supposed to outlive you."


End file.
